


Let Your Hair Down

by susannah_deanw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hairdresser!Cas, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:13:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susannah_deanw/pseuds/susannah_deanw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is based off a twitter prompt after Misha posted a picture of himself outside a salon called Castiel's hairdressing. Sam is dead and Dean feels lost and feels like he needs a change and somehow ends up at Castiel's Hairdressing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Your Hair Down

_34 days, 4 hours, 22 minutes and 34 seconds… now 35… 36…_ Dean couldn’t stop counting the time. That’s all he did now, as he lay in bed and refused to get out of the apartment that he and Sam had… _No…_ DO _share, do share._ He couldn’t believe that he’d lost his little brother, the one person he had sworn to protect since he was four years old. But he had failed, he’d failed himself, Sammy, his father, his mother. Unwanted tears slipped down his face and he closed his eyes, falling into the dark chasm of sleep once again.

Three weeks later and he’d barely left his bed, much less his apartment. There were beer bottles, take out boxes, whiskey bottles, dirty laundry all over the apartment. He hadn’t showered in how long he couldn’t even remember anymore. He had lost some weight, his hair had grown longer and he smelled to high heavens. But he didn’t care, not in the least. His bed was his new best friend and sleep was his drug to numb the pain. Every day was the same- wake up, drink whiskey/ beer, maybe eat some leftover food, use the bathroom for the basic necessities, never look at himself in the mirror, maybe step out to get some more alcohol if he ran out, return repeat.

On one such day after nearly three months of Sam’s death, Dean was taken by the idea of actually getting some food and making some. _Got to start somewhere right?_ It had been difficult, but he grabbed whatever cash he had left, making a mental note to talk to Bobby about his current employment position and hoping he hadn’t lost it, picked a completely different route and went to a grocery store that was a bit farther than where he normally goes. His hands went for the keys to the Impala but stopped once he realized who had ridden in the car the last time he’d driven it. Before he decided that his bed needed him, he quickly walked out the door and leaned against it once he was outside, breathing deeply.

“You can do this,” he muttered before going down the stairs and walking out of the building.

A walk seemed like a good idea and he reveled in the pull of each muscle in his legs as he walked to the grocery store. It was going to take a while to get there and he observed each passing store and person with mild interest. His neighbourhood had changed slightly. A new store here, a new bakery there, someone undergoing renovation. It felt refreshing and he smiled a small smile to himself as he neared his destination.

Walking in, he made a beeline to where he would find the essentials- milk, eggs, bread, cereal. Once he got what he needed, he started walking around through aisles picking up vegetables and groceries that he wanted. Feeling slightly better, he decided to make food for the night and started gathering whatever ingredients he would need. Once he was done and had paid, he walked out laden with grocery bags. He was heading in the opposite direction of where he’d come from when he caught his reflection from the corner of his eye. His hair had gotten too long, almost as long as Sam’s. A twinge of hurt passed through him and he looked up at the sign above the store.

“Castiel’s Hairdressing,” he murmured and looked at the shop. It looked fairly modern and fairly expensive but he decided to check it out anyway.

“Welcome to Castiel’s Hairdressing, how may I help you today?”, greeted a woman from the main desk. Hesitantly and with a shy smile, Dean walked up to the desk. He was very nervous as he tried to get some words out from his mouth but only ended up making weird faces before he gave up, patted the desk and walked out.

 _Dammit Dean!_ He cursed and facepalmed himself. He would try again tomorrow maybe or later. His hair wasn’t that bad! He’d be fine without a haircut for a little longer. The convincing worked and he strutted back happily to his apartment to make himself some _wholesome_ food and not just take out.

A week after the hairdresser incident, he was back at work. It was a way to pass the time and working in Bobby’s garage on cars and getting sweaty and greasy was the only way he knew how to cope. He took on as many shifts as possible and was normally too tired at night to think and slept dreamlessly.

Before long, it had been a month since Dean had been to the hairdresser and he’d taken to either wearing a headband or tying his hair up. He’d even let a beard grow and most of his friends almost didn’t recognize him anymore. Dean Winchester had changed multitudes. But something kept pulling him to go back, that feeling of something mattering being at the salon didn’t leave him and so, after a weekend shift at the garage, he made his way to Castiel’s Hairdressing. For a while, he stood outside, just staring at customers and employees jump from one station to the other and then he found himself walking inside and toward the main desk to be greeted by the same girl as last time.

“Hi! Welcome to Castiel’s Hairdressing. How may I help you today?”

“Hey. I was wondering if I could get a haircut and maybe a shave? I don’t have an appointment though,” he said coolly.

“Well, you’re in luck! We’re having a slow day and we have someone who can take you on, Mr….?”, she was typing into the computer as she talked.

“Winchester. Dean… Winchester,” he replied.

“Well, Mr. Winchester, how about you head on over to the hairwashing station there and I’ll send someone over.”

Dean thanked her and went over to sit at one of the stations. When he sat down, the same receptionist draped a towel around his neck and asked him to lean back and then walked away to get someone.

“Hi! I’m Jess, I’ll be your stylist for today,” a woman introduced herself and started washing Dean’s hair. The water was warm and he felt himself relax as her fingers ran through his hair.

“Jess, there’s a customer waiting for you, I can take over here,” came a deep voice. Dean’s eyes opened to behold the most stunning man he had seen, or felt appeal for. “Hey, how are you today?”, said the man and picked up from where Jess had left off.

“G-good,” Dean mumbled out. Even though he’d felt nervous cramps come on when he’d first seen the guy they were replaced by happy shivers as the man washed his hair. There’s a peculiar feeling that one gets when someone runs their fingers through someone’s hair; be it a stranger or a loved one, it always made the person feel something like being cared for. Actually, Dean couldn’t put it into words but the feeling always came when someone ran their fingers through his hair and it evoked emotions that normally don’t show themselves. He was like a cat when someone hit the sweet spot while petting them.

He didn’t want the hair washing to end. The feeling of complete relaxation he got was like a drug and he was more than disappointed when it was over and it was time for the haircut.

“Okay. Let’s head on over there for your haircut,” his stylist said as he got done pat-drying Dean’s hair and led him over.

After Dean sat down, the guy tied a black salon cape around him and fastened it at his neck. “What do you want to get done today”, the guy asked as he randomly played around with the ends of Dean’s hair.

“I… don’t really know. I just want a change from who I was before, change my look.” Dean’s reply had the guy nodding and he observed every movement the guy made. He really was handsome and Dean took in his appearance. Short black hair just the right amount of messy, piercing blue eyes, nice hands and from what he could tell by the slightly clinging tshirt, an excellent physique.

“So… if I choose to do something, it would be acceptable? Not weird or extreme or anything?”, the guy asked.

Dean shifted. “No, I don’t think so. Just don’t shave my hair off. That would be crossing a line.” The guy laughed and it stirred something inside Dean. It felt a lot like hope and happiness.

“Okay, I won’t shave your head. But I do want to try something but at the end, if you don’t like it, I’ll change it to a normal haircut. Deal?”

Dean nodded. The guy brought out his scissors and got to work. The entire time, Dean tried not to think about what the guy wanted to ‘try’ and just closed his eyes.

“I’m going to need you to tilt your head back so that I can shave your face and match it with the hair.” Dean tilted his head back without opening his eyes. He heard the buzz of a trimmer come on and waited while the guy worked, his eyes closed the entire time.

His stylist left for a few moments and started spraying something on his hair. He heard crackling which Dean guessed meant that he was wearing gloves.

“Almost done…” the stylist mumbled. After one last spray, Dean heard things being kept aside and gloves being removed.

“You can open your eyes now. I just hope you like it. You did ask for different but if you don’t want it, I’ll change it back,” the stylist prattled on.

Dean slowly opened his eyes and looked into the mirror and did not recognize the person sitting in the chair at all. He had a Mohawk with green tips, long sideburns and a neat French beard. He raised his hands to touch his face and the reflection did the same. Dean _did_ look different. Maybe this wasn’t what he wanted but what he needed.

He turned to look at the stylist who had his arms crossed and was observing his reaction. Dean smiled at him and turned back to look at his reflection. “It’s perfect.” The reply was enough for the stylist to do a little victory jump and Dean laughed.

“Though can I make one suggestion?” asked the stylist. “Yeah sure,” replied Dean.

“Do you mind wearing a little bit of eyeliner? It’ll look amazing with your new style and make those green eyes of yours pop even more.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the prospect of wearing _makeup_. He was a guy and guys didn’t wear makeup. “Um… maybe later.”

The stylist shrugged it off. “Anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.” He really was thankful. He felt like a new person as he got up from the chair and walked over to pay. When Dean tried to pay at the desk, the guy refused saying that it was his pleasure and that he looked forward to seeing him again. Dean did feel guilty for not paying but the guy said he would take care of it and walked out into the warm evening.

People had been more than surprised when they met him and were worried about him when they saw him and his new look. Once he explained that it was a choice he needed to make and helped him, they understood and let him be. It had been six weeks since he’d been to Castiel’s Hairdressing and based on the wear on his tips, he’d need to go in for a touch up. _Or I can get a can from the grocery store._

And so a can of green hair dye made it on to his monthly grocery list. While looking for the appropriate green in the cosmetics section of the grocery store, he passed a shelf dedicated to different brands and kinds of eyeliner.

 _Do you mind wearing a little bit of eyeliner? It’ll look amazing with your new style and make those green eyes of yours pop even more._ Dean was surprised to hear his stylist’s words from all those weeks ago ring through his head. His fingers twitched at his sides and itched to pick up a stick. Not really seeing which one he picked up, he grabbed it and went over to the counter to pay up.

Change had definitely become a way of life for Dean. One day while driving home from work, he found a tattoo and piercing parlor and ended up getting his nose and chin pierced. Over the next few weeks he got his ears pierced twice over and even got a tattoo. If anyone looked at him now and thought about Dean Winchester, they wouldn’t believe that this is who he had become. Dean’s entire appearance had changed and for better or for worse, he felt liberated.

After a grocery shopping trip, he ended up driving around in the Impala for a while and by some twist, he ended up at Castiel’s Hairdressing. His thoughts immediately shifted to his stylist and a nervous excitement flooded him. _Maybe I’ll see him_.

He found a spot and parked a slight ways from the salon and walked over to it. Going inside, he headed over to the main desk.

“Hi! Can I get an appointment? I just want to get my tips redone,” he said. Just as the woman looked up, a whistle sounded from somewhere behind him. When he turned to look, he found his stylist looking him up and down with appreciative eyes.

“Haven’t you changed,” he remarked with a raised eyebrow. Dean blushed and looked at his shoes.

“I just needed to get my tips done.” Dean glanced up shyly from between his lashes.

“Come this way.” Dean followed him to a station and sat down. While the guy tied the salon cape and fastened it around his neck, a thought struck him that made him feel an epic level of stupid. _I don’t know his name._

“Hey I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s your name?”

The guy chuckled before answering. “Castiel. Novak.”

Dean’s eyes widened and his head snapped back to look at the guy. “You own the place?!”

Castiel only shrugged as he went to get some dye for Dean. “Is that a problem?”

“No, I just… I didn’t know that I was special enough to be attended by the owner,” Dean trailed off sheepishly. “I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you.”

“On the contrary Dean, I’ve been patiently awaiting your return.” Castiel started putting on some gloves and grabbed the can he had brought to use.

 _Awaiting my return?! What did that even mean?_ “Why?”

“Coz you’re pretty and I like you,” Castiel replied.

Dean felt blood rush everywhere. Castiel liked _him_? How was that even possible? Even he didn’t like him!

“You do?” The question was almost too soft but Castiel heard him as clearly as though he’d spoken normally.

“Yeah. You came in and I thought you were interesting. I got your name from the reception but I didn’t look you up or get your number hoping you’d come back and you did.” Castiel’s reply left Dean with no reply. He was so concentrated on the fact that Castiel had _wished_ to see him again that everything else just faded around him.

“Alright. Done.” Castiel removed the gloves and undid the cape. Dean swiveled the chair around and grabbed Castiel’s wrist as he turned to walk away.

“I have one more request,” Dean started. Castiel stepped closer and he loosened his grip on Castiel’s wrist and slipped his hand into his pocket.

“Mind putting this on for me, Cas?” He held out the stick of eyeliner he’d bought. A small smirk adorned his face as Cas’s hand shook when he took it from him.

“Sure,” Cas said and bent over slightly to get a better angle for applying the eyeliner. “Close your eyes.”

Dean closed his eyes and waited. He felt the heat being radiated from the closeness of Cas’s hand as he worked to draw a line across Dean’s eyelid. _One down one to go_ , Dean thought as Cas shifted to his right eyelid.

“Open,” Cas said and Dean obeyed. Cas’s eyes went wide when he looked at Dean and Dean noticed a flush creep across Cas’s neck. “I just need to do the bottom lids.”

Dean nodded and let Cas get to work. It tickled a bit when Cas traced the pencil across his lower lids but he tried his best to not blink. He noticed a subtle change in Cas’s breathing and chose not to comment on it.

“Done,” Cas said and stood up straight. Dean followed his lead and stood up from the chair taking his pencil from Cas.

“Thank you,” he said and turned to walk away but Cas grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to smash his lips against his. His lips worked furiously against Cas’s and his hands went to Cas’s back to tug him closer.

“I was going to buy you dinner first but this is okay too,” Dean said as he broke away.

Cas laughed before replying. “I couldn’t help it. Seeing you with all the piercings and then the eyeliner, I knew I had to kiss you.” After a small pause, “But I’ll take you up on that dinner offer.”

Dean’s whole face brightened and a huge smile appeared on his face. “You will?”

Cas nodded. “If no dinner got me a kiss, imagine what dinner would get me,” he said and winked at Dean.

“True that. Would you maybe want to go right now?”, Dean asked nervously.

“Hmm… Let me think…”, Cas said and pulled away a bit. “Yes. I would love to.”

Dean’s smile, if possible, got bigger and he pulled Cas in for another kiss.

Once he’d had enough, Cas held Dean’s hand and they walked out of the salon after telling Linda, the woman at the desk, that they were closing early and she could go home.

Dean walked hand-in-hand with Cas to a nearby café to have one of the best evenings of their lives with many more to come.

 


End file.
